


Damian Wayne Sneezes Like a Kitten

by sophene



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bat Brothers, Bat Family, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 10:35:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15884325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophene/pseuds/sophene
Summary: Tim and the rest of the family find out that Damian sneezes like a kitten.





	Damian Wayne Sneezes Like a Kitten

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on an image I saw on Pinterest. I wrote it for the two people who got me into this fandom.

They’re in the Batcave the first time it happens.

It’s late afternoon, and almost the entire family is there, which is unusual in and of itself. Tim is on his computer working on a case while Dick, Stephanie, and Cassie spar. Behind Tim, Duke is cleaning his gear, and Bruce is arguing with Alfred about some event at a museum. Damian is washing the Batmobile, which is his punishment from Bruce for pushing a thief off a house into a dumpster.

Tim’s deep into the case, at that focused point where even the grunts and thuds of fighting bodies isn’t enough to break his concentration.

What does break his concentration is the sound of the tiniest, daintiest sneeze. Tim looks over and around, thinking he’ll see the cat lurking around somewhere, but instead catches sight of Damian by the Batmobile, wiping his nose with a sudsy hand.

Tim stares.

Apparently he was not the only one who heard it. After a moment of bewilderment, Tim realizes that Cassie, Stephanie, and Dick have stopped sparring. Duke has frozen, mouth agape, a gauntlet in one hand, a threadbare rag in the other. Alfred and Bruce’s argument about the museum event has abruptly ended. They are all staring at Damian instead, who hasn’t seemed to notice yet that everyone is looking at him.

Damian drops the sponge back into the bucket of soapy water. He sniffles and wipes his nose again, leaving a trail of bubbles along his upper lip. Finally it seems to occur to him that something is amiss, and he looks up at them.

“What are you all looking at?” Damian snaps.

“Bless you,” Stephanie says, deadpan.

“Oh my god,” Dick says. He puts both hands on either side of his face and beams at Damian. “That was the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Damian blushes furiously red.

“What are you talking about?” Damian asks.

“Master Damian, shall I fetch you a tissue?” Alfred asks.

“No! I don’t need one!”

“Dude, you sneeze like a baby,” Duke says.

“No, he sneezes like a kitten,” Tim says.

Cassie, Dick, and Stephanie erupt into giggles.

The sound Damian makes is like a pterodactyl’s screech of rage. He picks up the sponge in the bucket of soapy water and throws it at Tim. Tim ducks, so the sponge flies harmlessly over his head, but he does get sprayed with a little bit of dirty Batmobile water. Tim just wipes it off and smirks. It was worth it.

“Damian, don’t throw things at your brother. I’ll make you wash the plane too,” Bruce warns.

Damian glowers at all of them, at Tim in particular, and mutters about how Tim is not his brother. Cassie gamely comes over, picks up the sponge, and tosses it back to him. Damian catches it. He goes back to washing the Batmobile, occasionally shooting a furious look over at one of them, but he doesn’t try to stab anyone. Tim thinks this a mature choice.

* * *

From then on, any time there’s even a slight chance Damian might sneeze, someone has their phone out, already recording. Usually that person is Tim.

In Tim’s defense, this is only because Barbara did not believe them when they told her about the kitten sneeze. Tim needs hard evidence if he’s going to convince her.

Then one night they’re out on patrol with Cassie, high up on a bank building, and Damian has been doing that stuttering breath thing like he’s been trying to hold one back.

“Red Robin, if you do not put your phone away, I will destroy it,” Damian says.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, “ Tim says. “I’m just looking at a text.”

Damian glowers at him.

“You are not amusing and you are not subtle and—ah!” he says, and he breathes in, clutching his nose, and Tim thinks this one might be a normal sneeze this time.

Then the sneeze comes out, and it’s even daintier squeak than the sneeze in the Batcave.

“Delete that video!” Damian screams.

Tim and Cassie laugh so hard they cry, and Damian howls insults at them that can probably be heard all the way over in Bludhaven. They’re on their backs on the roof of the building, both of them clutching their aching ribs and still giggling, when Damian gets up. Tim knows what the kid is about to do, so Tim leaps to his feet too. Damian is just lunging at him when Cassie tackles him, dropping them both on the roof. She rolls over so that Damian is on top of her, his arms flailing madly in her iron grip.

“Send video!” Cassie says.

Tim doesn’t need to be told twice. He quickly sends the video to Barbara. After a pause, he sends it to Jon Kent too, just because he can.

Damian eventually breaks Cassie’s hold and spends the night chasing Tim all over Gotham. When Damian finally catches him it’s dawn, and the rising sun is turning the pitch black sky into a murky grey. He threatens to break Tim’s nose, but just breaks Tim’s phone instead.

But Tim doesn’t care. By then the video has already somehow made it to not only the Teen Titans, but the Titans, the Outlaws, and even the Justice League, and Tim’s work is done.

* * *

Damian gets the flu that autumn.

Tim knows he’s sick the second Damian wanders downstairs for breakfast. There’s a grey tinge to his normally warm bronze skin, and he’s hunched over a little like he’s trying not to clutch his stomach. He only eats an edge of his toast and nothing else on his plate.

But Damian likes to pretend that mortal problems like illness don’t happen to him—and is even more of a terror than usual when he’s sick—so everyone acts like they don’t know and waits for Damian to admit it.

To his credit, Damian makes it through most of the day. When Bruce says it’s time to suit up for patrol that evening, Tim almost intercedes.

But there’s no need. Damian tries to put on his Robin suit, but he’s sweating buckets under the heavy Kevlar and his eyes are watery and unfocused. Finally he sways a bit and sits down on the floor.

“You ok Damian?” Tim asks sweetly.

“Perhaps I am unwell,” Damian says. He looks a little bleary for a moment, but manages to sharpen up for a second so he can direct a nasty look at Tim.

“Up to bed with you, then. I’ll tell Alfred,” Bruce says, as if Alfred doesn’t already know.

Damian’s too weak to put up a fight, and willingly goes up to his room.

Unfortunately, Alfred is busy planning the event at the museum, so Tim somehow finds himself roped into helping out with sickroom duty for the next few days.

“You should stop that,” Tim says on one of the occasions when Alfred sends him up to Damian’s room with a tray. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Damian glares at him, but the blanket’s tucked up around Damian’s chin, and he’s buried under a pile of animals, so the look is not at all as threatening as he intends. With his bright red nose and tousled hair, he actually looks harmless and tiny. Tim has an odd feeling of fondness for the kid, and god—he must be losing it if he thinks Damian is at all cuddly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Damian sniffs.

“I’m talking about the way you keep trying to pull off a manlier sneeze when you think someone can hear you,” Tim says.

Damian scoffs.

“Why did you come in here to wake me up and prattle on about nonsense?” Damian asks.

“I brought saltines and vegetable broth.” Tim gestures with the tray.

“I’m not hungry,” Damian says.

“Alfred says I can’t leave until you eat all of it.”

“Then make me,” Damian says defiantly.

Tim grins down at him.

After Tim shoos the animals out of the room, Damian sullenly sits up in the bed. Tim sets the tray down on his lap and pulls a chair over so he can make sure Damian eats.

He eats without enthusiasm, sniffling the whole time. When he’s finished half of the soup and most of the saltines, he sets down the spoon and immediately sneezes.

It must have caught Damian off guard, because he didn’t have a chance to try to mangle it into a deeper sound. This time though, Tim doesn’t laugh. He just smiles to himself and hands Damian the box of tissues from the bedside table.

Damian blows his nose, then narrows his eyes at Tim.

“Stop smiling,” Damian says.

Tim doesn’t.

“I do not understand why you get so much joy from tormenting me.”

Tim raises his eyebrows and tips his head, giving Damian his best “Are you serious?” look.

“Do you all hate me that much?” Damian asks. He’s still glaring at Tim, but there’s a sharpness to his eyes all of the sudden, a wariness. Tim remembers something Dick said to him once, about how much the kid wants to be accepted.

Tim says, “We don’t hate you, Damian.”

“Then why are you all bullying me?” Damian asks.

“We’re not bullying you,” Tim says.

“Yes you are,” Damian insists. “You and Cassandra followed me around for days trying to make videos of me. And the way Brown keeps mimicking me—”

“We think it’s cute,” Tim says, and leans over to boop Damian on the nose with his pointer finger.

Damian swipes at him weakly and says, “I am _not_ cute!”

His impassioned defense of himself is somewhat thwarted by yet another tiny sneeze. When he opens his eyes again, he’s already glaring at Tim, and Tim is doing his best not to smile. He’s not very successful.

“You’re doing it again! You’re laughing at me!” Damian says, and Tim almost laughs, but then Damian bursts out, “You hate me. You think it’s funny to embarrass me.”

“Damian, I don’t hate you. Messing with you is what brothers do. That’s what Dick does to me.”

“We are _not_ brothers,” Damian says, fire in his gaze.

Tim rolls his eyes and tries to distract him.

“Alfred says you need fresh sheets,” Tim says, and gets up to fetch them.

As he’s peeling off the old sheets and putting the new ones on, Damian stands next to the bed, shivering and ranting about how Tim forced himself into the Wayne family and has no right to claim that he is his brother. Tim has heard it all before, so he just nods and smiles at the more impassioned points in the speech, which just serves to enrage Damian more.

By the time the new sheets are on the bed, Damian has completely worn himself out. He sneezes one last time, but is so drowsy that he can only manage a half-hearted glare. Tim tucks him back into the bed.

“One day I am going to discover something about you that is just as embarrassing,” Damian mutters as his eyes flutter shut. “I will make a video and send it to Brown. See how you enjoy it. It isn’t as if it will be difficult. Your entire life is an embarrassment.”

“Uh-huh,” Tim says indulgently.

It’s only a few minutes before Damian drifts off and is snoring faintly. Tim must be possessed or something, because he finds himself actually reaching out and ruffling his hair.

Tim takes the tray and the dirty sheets downstairs.

* * *

Damian eventually gets over the flu, and, true to his word, valiantly attempts to embarrass Tim.

Damian, however, has badly miscalculated. He didn’t stop to consider the fact that Tim knows he is embarrassing and has accepted it, and that everyone else knows this about Tim and has also accepted it. Tim decides, in a brotherly fashion, that the best way to handle this issue is to act as if nothing Damian does effects him.

One afternoon Damian snaps a picture of Tim wandering around Wayne Manor dressed only in pineapple printed orange boxer shorts.

“Aha!” Damian says, jerking a finger at his phone screen. “Finally! I’m putting this picture on Twitter!”

Then he runs away, and presumably does. Tim does not chase him to find out. His only indication that the picture is out there is when Dick texts later.

Dick: Aren’t those boxers mine?

Tim: Barbara got us both a pair last Christmas as a joke

Dick: Ah right.

That’s the end of the conversation. No one else ever brings it up.

One Friday around 3 a.m. Damian sneaks up on him while Tim is working in his room. He’s drinking coffee out of one of Stephanie’s old mugs. It’s tall, bright purple, and has the words Bad Bitch written on the side in white. Adding to the tableau is Tim’s hair, which he put up in an awful bun because it kept getting in his face. Damian doesn’t seem to realize that Tim 100% knows that Damian is there. He even turns a little bit so that Damian can get a clearer photo of the mug.

When he has taken his picture, Damian pops out of the shadows and says, “Wow, Drake. Bad bitch? You?” He smiles smugly and wanders out of the room. Tim lets him.

This attempt at embarrassing him fails as well, but the next time Tim sees Stephanie, she slaps him on the shoulder with the back of her hand and says, “Hey asshole! I was wondering what happened to that mug. Give it back.”

“Language,” Bruce says half-heartedly, but they ignore him.

“No,” Tim tells her. Stephanie tackles him, and they fight for a while. Damian stands behind them and looks as if he might weep, and it is hilarious.

This goes on for several more weeks. Damian takes a picture of Tim asleep in the dining room in the middle of dinner, his head thrown back over a chair, his mouth open. No one mentions it. Damian takes a video of Tim tripping over and then apologizing to a rug. No one mentions it. Damian gets a series of pictures of Tim eating marshmallow creme with Cool Ranch Doritos in the middle of the night. No one mentions it. Damian takes very shaky, out of context video of Tim saying he would look great in booty shorts. This one actually has the unexpected side effect of getting the media riled up over Dick’s ass again, but no one mentions Tim.

Tim really thinks Damian will give up after this last one—especially when Dick begs him to stop—but Damian is undeterred. He’s a determined little bastard, Tim will give him that.

One Wednesday afternoon Tim is studying in the library when he senses that Damian is watching him again.

He casts his gaze around at what he has at the table, but actually, Tim is not as much of a disaster that day as he is usually. He’s fully dressed to start, and his hair is washed and not up in a terrible bun. Stephanie has stolen her Bad Bitch mug back, so Tim is drinking out of a plain green one.

Tim waits for Damian to get bored and show himself. He doesn’t count on the library being the dustiest part of the house. Tim hears Damian’s failed attempt to stifle a sneeze, and he smiles.

“Come out, Gremlin,” Tim says. “I know you’re there.”

Damian begrudgingly comes out of the stacks.

“Still trying and failing to embarrass me, huh?” Tim asks.

Damian glowers. He comes around the table and sits down on the other end. He crosses his arms over his chest and is almost sulking.

“I don’t understand it,” Damian says. “You’re the most embarrassing person in this house, but nothing I have done to expose this has worked.”

Tim smirks but doesn’t say anything.

“And yet they still bring up meaningless matters, such as a natural response that I do not have the ability to control. Why do they care what I do but do not care what you do?” Damian asks.

_The answer is obvious_ , Tim thinks as he evaluates Damian’s thwarted expression. Tim doesn’t let it get to him. Damian does. What’s the point of roasting someone who doesn’t even seem to notice?

But Damian looks genuinely upset, so Tim does not say this. Instead he says, “We’re only doing it because we like you. That’s what people do when they like you. They tease.”

“Well I hate you,” Damian says.

“Sure,” Tim says.

Damian’s eyes widen in alarm.

“That is not what is happening, Drake. I am not trying to mess with you because I like you. We are not brothers. The day where you leave this house forever cannot come soon enough.”

“Ok,” Tim says.

“I hate you,” Damian says again.

“Uh-huh.”

“I do,” Damian says, with more conviction this time.

“Uh-huh,” Tim says.

Damian gets up and storms out of the library.

But Damian hasn’t even tried to stab him in months. Tim knows bullshit when he hears it.

* * *

They’re in the Batcave when it happens again.

This time Cassie and Dick aren’t there, but Barbara and Jason are. Tim is sparring with Stephanie and Damian while Bruce and Barbara discuss needed updates to the computer. Duke is showing Jason some of the modifications he has made to the Signal suit.

Damian is trash talking Tim as he tries to get a hit in and Tim is smirking down at him, because he knows that drives Damian out of his mind. He’s almost wholly focused on Stephanie at his back and Damian lunging for his legs, but he’s not so focused that he doesn’t hear the quick succession of three dainty sneezes.

Stephanie, Tim, and Damian freeze immediately. Tim gazes down at Damian, perplexed, but he’d been looking at Damian the whole time—that sound hadn’t come from him.

Then they notice the way that Duke has drawn back from Jason, his eyes wide, gazing up at him in horror. Barbara and Bruce have turned around to stare too.

Jason wipes his hand under his nose. He notices they’re all staring at him. He looks around the Batcave at all of them.

“What?” Jason says.

For a moment, no one says anything.

Then Barbara asks, “Did that sound come out of _you_?”

Jason shrugs.

“I always sneeze three times in a row,” he says. “I don’t know why.”

They are silent. Jason eyes them all warily.

If Dick were there, he’d be squealing. But Dick is not there, and all of them are too astonished to know what to say. Stephanie has a hand clasped over her mouth. Duke still hasn’t blinked.

Then Damian turns, looks up at Tim. Tim looks down at him. Damian’s expression is blank, and Tim can’t help it—he feels a smile tugging on his lips. After a moment, Damian smiles too. He looks like he’s having a bad time fighting it.

“I think I understand now. It is unsettling, but cute,” Damian says.

“What did you say?” Jason snaps.

“Uh,” Bruce says, and there’s another silent pause. Behind him, Barbara’s face is locked in a stony grimace. Bruce finishes, “Bless you, Jason.”

Duke chokes back a snort, and that’s all it takes for the dam to break. Tim, Stephanie, and Damian howl with laughter, falling back on the sparring mats when they can’t stay upright anymore. Jason is yelling but none of them can hear what he’s saying, and tears are streaming down Damian’s face.

Tim has never laughed so much in his life.


End file.
